


The Old and the New

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Other, some mild emotional turmoil, support buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: Zenyatta is such a confusing being, but Mercy tries her best to understand. She's always been the medic for her team, and Zenyatta is no different-even if he is an omnic.





	

Angela had never been one for speed, really. Her Valkyrie suit was zippy, sure, but she could never stand something like Lena’s racing blinks, or even Lucio’s skates. Being in a vehicle was a bit better, but even so, she had to avoid looking out the window too much-the trees and mountains racing by made her head spin. Fortunately, her companion had taken the window seat, and allowed her to take the aisle seat with grace. Then again, it was unlikely her companion would suffer from motion sickness, given that he didn’t exactly have an organic body.

As an Omnic, Zenyatta certainly had his own share of physical experiences, but Mercy knew her knowledge in that area was woefully inadequate. Bastion effected his own repairs, and Genji…well, Genji just highlighted how little she really knew. He took it in stride, though, and he must have found mechanics over the years. Medics? Mechano-medics? What exactly did Omnics call their repair-bots?

She opened her mouth to ask the question, but a stab of anxiety prevented her. Sure, Zenyatta was a peaceful monk. Sure, she’d asked him along on this little excursion. And sure, he was generally the most peaceful being on the base. But still, every so often, she’d wonder if he could sense the anger that still hid in her psyche. She didn’t _mean_ to offend him, usually. But he’d heard all the things she’d said before. The things she thought. Would ignorance of Omnic ways just remind him of the distance between them-between herself as a human medic, and him as an Omnic healer?

She was overthinking things again. Shaking her head, Angela settled back in the seat and attempted a smile. “Do you like the view?”

“It’s very different from the landscapes I traditionally visit. Certainly eye-opening, to say the least.” As Zenyatta turned back to face her, Angela was hard pressed to determine how he did it-somehow, he managed to give the impression he was smiling, even without any facial expression. Maybe it was his tone?

“I know the base in Germany is small enough as it is, but even just going a few kilometers away can show you a vast change. And here…well.” Like clockwork, her mind had gone back to the Omnics. Couldn’t she just have a normal conversation with him without bringing up the conflict?

“You are evidently very proud of your country. It is endearing.” Zenyatta offered a small nod, watching her. “Thank you again, for inviting me. I always enjoy a chance to explore our world.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t seem as though I’m showing off. I just-I do love it here. Especially now, with the snow on the mountains, and the decorations up in the villages-“

“It is natural, to remain attached to one’s birthplace. You have no need to justify your feelings to me.” Reaching out, Zenyatta patted her hand gently, turning back to watch the window. “As long as you assure me that I am properly attired, then I will have no worries.”

“Good. I mean. Yes, you look fine.” Honestly, he looked more comical than a monk of the Iris had any right to look, but Angela supposed she _had_ asked Genji for help. A large sweater, decked in red, green, and white, fit the monk well enough, and a sleek pair of slacks had seemed to fit okay, but Genji had insisted that his master wear a pair of snow boots and a scarf. As if the Omnic were going to catch cold! Zenyatta had borne the attention with his usual patience, and Angela had bundled up to match, smiling at the sight. It wasn’t often she’d seen Zenyatta in anything other than his monkish garb, and she had to admit, it was kind of interesting.

As the train slowed, then pulled into its stop, Angela leaned forward to look out the window. Even in the daylight, Christmas lights twinkled as they hung between shops and homes, the streetlamps decorated with bows or wreaths. Even from her position at the station, she could see the Christmas tree at the center of the square, and her smile widened as she felt a familiar eagerness. To be here, home again, with the sights and sounds of the holiday-it was so close!

“You know, if we leave the train, we can actually see it up close.” A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she stood quickly before looking to Zenyatta.

“Did you actually…was that a joke?” She watched him closely, furrowing her brow. Zenyatta, as was his wont, only bowed his head before following her to the door of the train car.

“We have our humor too, Doctor Zeigler. It brings levity to our thoughts.” Zenyatta stood beside her as they exited onto the platform, other groups of people mingling with cheers and smiles. Angela hesitated a moment, feeling the chill bite at her nose, then quickly looked back to her companion.

“Ah-will you understand the German? I don’t know if you…if you’re…”

“I have the rudimentary programming. Almost all of us do.” Zenyatta tilted his head, almost as if in thought, then responded in German. “This should be the one.”

“It’s nothing major, I mean…most of us know English anyway, so it wouldn’t have been a problem.” True to her statement, Angela remained speaking English, but quickly scanned the signs, maps, and directions all printed in German. Well, she’d juggled the languages long enough, what was another day?

“I am a guest in your home, Doctor Zeigler. As accommodating as you have been, this adjustment is minor for me. Besides, I fear we may have other hurdles besides a mere language barrier.” Zenyatta nodded to the end of the platform, where a family stood talking to each other, sending quick glances over to where Zenyatta and Angela stood.

With a sinking heart, Angela forced herself to start walking, maintaining her smile even as she breezed through the crowds. “We have tried, Zenyatta-“

“This is no fault of your own, Doctor Zeigler.”

“But-“ Frustrated and already out of breath, Angela pulled them into an empty corner of the street as they exited the station to take Zenyatta by one shoulder. “I have to apologize, we are still not as…progressive as some of the larger cities, and especially here-“

“Will I be abused? Cast out, threatened, or physically harmed?” Though delivered in his usual even tone, Zenyetta’s questions held a dangerous weight, and Angela tensed as she looked away.

“No. It might have been worse if you’d come here alone, but with me-“

“I’ll be safe.” Zenyatta nodded, turning to continue along the sidewalk. “That in itself says measures, Doctor Zeigler. I thank you again for your presence.”

“Zenyatta-“

“You worry too much, Doctor Zeigler. We have only just gotten here! You came to enjoy the season, and to see the shops, and show me this village. Concentrate on that, and address troubles only as they arise.”

Angela hesitated at that, finding herself following the Omnic along rather than leading him. He just had that simple confidence-no, it wasn’t confidence. Jack had been confident. Reyes, Reinhardt-they had all been _confident_. Zenyatta simply _was_ , and that was enough to give him something like strength.

How she envied him.

“I still must apologize for my-my countrymen, Zenyatta, and for some of their attitudes.”

“Please. I can assure you, whatever it is we experience, I have seen and felt far worse. Now, I must insist-don’t let this ruin your outing.” Zenyatta nodded, turning to pull at her sleeve before pointing to the street ahead. “Now. You were going to do some shopping?”

Hesitant at first, but with steady strength, a smile returned to Angela’s expression, and she moved past a group of sightseers before leading Zenyatta through the shops. The tiny village was not often so crowded, but it made most of its money during these holiday seasons-and the skiing resort on the mountain certainly didn’t help the general congestion. Still, as carols rang out and people wished each other happy holidays in the street, Angela couldn’t help feeling buoyed by the sentiments. Pleasant memories filtered in like starlight on fresh snow, and she felt herself laughing even as groups of carolers roped her into one song or another. It was almost as if she was a little girl again, dancing for her papa.

How he’d loved this season! The little wooden dolls, and all the sweetbreads and cakes, and everything! He would always find some reason to dress her up, tying bows in her hair or on her dress or even-one year-on her shoes. “An angel, fit to top anyone’s tree!” And he’d lift her up, up, up, like she _was_ an angel flying away-

Caught by the shock of her emotion, Angela stopped short, causing Zenyatta to bump into her as they turned a corner. Fortunately this street was less crowded, but Angela could feel a familiar pressure constraining her, making her want to scream and cry and flee all at once. It was a mistake, coming back here, seeing this again.

“Doctor Zeigler, please-sit down.” Someone was taking her hand. Zenyatta. Right. She’d brought him, to see this. And now he was leading her by the hand, his cold metal fingers tangible even through her gloves, and even in the midst of her confusion, she wondered whether he reacted to the cold. It would make his joints contract, no?

“Everything will be okay.” He was making her sit, helping her get her bearings-she could feel her heartbeat slowing again, her thoughts returning to the present bit by bit. He was so solid, so _real_. And his tone was so sincere, she had to believe he was right. Things would be okay. It was Christmas, after all.

“Maybe you’ve been going a bit fast. Let me get us some cocoa.” Setting her hands in her lap, Zenyatta straightened, waiting to make sure Angela would not follow him before disappearing into a nearby café. Angela brought her hands to her face to hide her face from the world, taking another deep breath before settling. Her family was gone, and she could not bring them back. She knew this. But she could still hold onto their memories, and celebrate with them.

 _That’s_ why she loved this season so much. Why she needed to come back here. Remembering them was the thing they would have wanted most, more than her medical degree or her work with Overwatch. She could treasure her memories, and relive them each year. Her papa would want that, for sure. He’d want to be associated with cinnamon cider, and sweetcakes. She smiled, thinking of him again, and gently wiped the tears from her eyes as she relaxed.

She could make new memories, too. New relationships, new…friends. She’d made so many friends at the hospital, and the Omnics had disrupted that-but she couldn’t let that stop her. What was the point of living, unless one got up and tried again? Overwatch had been her family, then they’d fallen too, but now she was back, and she had-

“Here. They offered cinnamon and cream, so I said yes. I hope that’s okay.” Zenyatta stood with a steaming cup of cocoa in each hand, holding out one to her, and Angela sat up to accept it in some surprise. They froze for a moment, Zenyatta standing and Angela still seated, before Zenyatta carefully came to sit beside her on the bench. Angela took a grateful sip of the cocoa, feeling the warmth-almost too hot, but not enough to burn-and held the cup close to her face. After a moment, she turned to him in surprise, remembering the other cup of cocoa.

“You got some too?” The surprise made her voice unnaturally high, and she cleared her throat before waiting for his response. Again, Zenyatta simply tilted his head for a beat, appearing to think, then nodded.

“The warmth relaxes the joints in my hands. They aren’t uncomfortable, but it is…a relaxing feeling.” Almost unconsciously, Zenyatta had seated himself cross-legged on the bench, and curled up around his cup as if absorbing its heat. Angela smiled, then found herself laughing as she studied him, his concentration almost out of place in the scene.

“Look at you. An Omnic monk, trained in Nepal, taking cocoa with a Swiss doctor in some backwater in the Alps.”

“Our organization brings people together, does it not? I said I enjoyed these experiences. Learning about humanity has been my constant joy, and an eternal pleasure. You always have something new.”

Angela nodded, a previous thought rising again in her mind. With her smile fading, she sat back, trying to word her thoughts correctly.

“I…I must admit, I still have trouble forgiving the Omnics for everything that happened. I’m sorry, I know-“ She held up a hand, closing her eyes. “I know you don’t know what caused it either. And I know, logically, that I can’t entirely blame omnics for what happened. But I thought…I wanted to tell you. And apologize.”

Even with the crowds around them, Angela could feel the silence settle heavy around them, muffling the songs and cheers. She shouldn’t have said anything-they were having so much fun, and now-

“It would not be right of me to ask you to forgive us any sooner than you are willing.” Zenyatta’s voice was quiet, but she’d grown accustomed to his tone. “I know it is difficult. I, too, have lost those close to me, my brothers, my sisters-as much as harmony and order are important to me, I only came to these conclusions after experiencing much chaos.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, really, or even Genji, but sometimes-sometimes I still think that way, or say things-and I’m sorry, it’s been…it’s been a _lifetime_ of learning these things, and it’s so…hard. I don’t know if I can change it.”

“Oh, Doctor Zeigler.” Zenyatta fell silent again, and Angela wondered if she’d misunderstood his tone. Was he reprimanding her? However, he moved to set his cup of cocoa on the ground below his bench, and turned to face her slowly. “Angela.”

“I-I’m just-I’m sorry, Zenyatta, I-“

“Angela, I could have this exact conversation with _everyone_ at Overwatch. Winston. Tracer. Even my unfailing student sometimes slips into certain ways of thinking. Please, believe me when I say I understand. And I forgive you.” Reaching forward, Zenyatta cradled both of Angela’s hands in his, the heat radiating outward from her tiny cup. “As hard as it has been, and will be, for you, remember that you do not do this alone. Have I ever reacted in anger, or hurt? Have I ever blamed you for the things you think without thinking? You struggle with this, Lucio struggles with this, Ana struggles with this. For those of you who saw the war, it is another battlefield to face, and for the children…the younger ones, who only learned of the war later, they are trapped between two ideologies. Hana…well, far be it from me to expose her deepest struggles, but her thoughts are not far from your own. That is why I do what I do, why Mondatta did what he did, what all of us continue to strive for. Mondatta had his strengths. I think that mine lay here, in this. In helping people, and letting good come from that.”

Angela wasn’t sure when her eyes had gotten so misty again, but she managed a smile even as she pulled away one hand to rub at her eyes. Of course he’d understand. He was a monk, wasn’t he? But she could only accept what he was saying as truth. She’d talked with him too much, spent too much time with him to think otherwise. Of course he was right.

“Of course, I am not above fighting for my people or for my friends. But that is a subject for another time.” Standing again, Zenyatta crouched to reclaim his cocoa, then nodded for Angela to follow. Intrigued, she stood to accompany him, watching as he wove through the crowds before crossing the street to approach a small group. Two adults, evidently husband and wife, stood exhausted between two shops, discussing something heatedly while a little girl shuffled in the show between them. Approaching them, Zenyatta cleared his throat (or played the audio file of clearing his throat-it didn’t much matter) and stood still, the picture of innocence in his sweater and boots. The adults stopped talking to stare at him as their daughter drew back in trepidation, unsure of the newcomer. Coming to stand at his elbow, Angela offered her best disarming smile-the one she’d used on children, when they asked to meet her at the hospital-and nodded encouragingly.

“In the spirit of the season, little miss. A present for you.” Zenyatta crouched again to offer the cocoa to the little girl, tilting his head. “It’s even been cooled down, so it won’t hurt.”

Darting forward, the child took the cup, offering a quick smile before taking a sip. The adults started slightly, unsure of what to do, but the child transferred the cup to one hand before reaching forward.

“Your head’s got a bunch of lights!”

“It certainly does! Unfortunately, I don’t have as many colors as the tree, but I like them all the same.” Zenyatta nodded. “You can touch them, if you’d like.”

With one finger, the child gently poked at the square of lights on Zenyatta’s forehead, frowning slightly. “They don’t even make noise. Why do you have them?”

“You know, I never really thought to ask. But they make me unique. And I like them.” Zenyatta stood again, brushing off his knees, and backed away slightly to join Angela. “Excuse me, sir, madam-but you have the loveliest daughter. Very charming!”

Both adults stood shell-shocked, unable to speak, until the woman finally nodded. “I-uh, I think-“

“He’s very good with children.” Angela interjected, leaning forward to engage the woman in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think it’s because of his head. They love the lights.”

“Of course, of course…” The woman replied in quiet amazement, still unable to form a proper response. “Um. Thank you?”

“Thank you, metal man!” The child echoed, giggling as Zenyatta waved to her. “Merry Christmas!”

“And a merry Christmas to you and your parents!” Zenyatta called, turning back to continue waving even as he followed Angela up the street. Angela had to wait until they were out of sight of the family before bursting into laughter, grabbing at Zenyatta’s arm in glee.

“Have you done that before? You must have, somewhere.”

“There were many children in Nepal. And anywhere there is humanity, there will be children. I find it easier to talk to them, sometimes. Their view of things is so much-“

“Simpler? You know, Zenyatta, for an omnic not raised in human schools, you have a surprisingly human view of our philosophy.”

“Ah, my dear Doctor Zeigler-that is exactly my point. We are not so different.”

“I suppose not. Still, I feel it’s my duty to indoctrinate you on our ‘human customs’.” Elbowing him to be certain he caught the joke, Angela continued to lead him through the streets, telling him stories about the different shops and goods for sale. Maybe he already had the information, or maybe he could simply download this knowledge later, but she felt better telling it to him-and he was more than willing to listen.

‘Twas the season, after all. And if she could be friends with an omnic, well, maybe there was hope for her yet. There was still a future to look forward to. More holidays to have and share. And with any luck, she’d be able to share them with her friends.

Even, of course, the omnic ones.


End file.
